


Stand and Unfold Yourself

by Bumocusal



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bitchslapping, Bodyguard Harry, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, F/M, I don't ship Niall and Lottie IRL, M/M, Minor Character Death, Modern Royalty, One Night Stands, One Shot, Prince Louis, Prince Louis Tomlinson, Princess Lottie, Royalty, The Royals AU, Younger Louis, based on a t.v. show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7917520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumocusal/pseuds/Bumocusal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Royal Family of England is thrown into disarray when the heir to the throne is killed in an accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand and Unfold Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> I'm 96% sure that this is all I'll ever be writing of this. Correct my grammar and shit, kay? Thanks.
> 
> Also, this is based off the T.V. show, The Royals. I only did episode one. And basically swapped their names around. So, if you like this story, then please watch this show. It's so good. Especially the Jasper and Eleanor relationship. Totally perfect. :)

**Stand and unfold yourself;**

 

Jay walked swiftly down the corridor, blue cardigan wrapped tightly around her vintage pinup dress. Her heels clicking against the hard wood floors.

“You also have a fitting for the garden party, and Sir Elton John would like to pop around for a quick hello,” Henry said, Jay picked up her pace, causing the gaggle of advisers to forcibly join her speed.

“Pop around to say hello?” She mocks, “You give someone a lousy title and they treat the place as if it’s a star box.”

Henry nodded, sucking closer to the prize as any power thirsty individual can, he agrees with Jay like his life depends on it, “Quite. Um, the queen is unfortunately indisposed. Now, at half-past twelve-”

Jay snatches the red agenda he’d been reading out of, “Just give me the book, Henry,” she begins flipping pages and comes to a full stop in front of the double doors.

“Are you ready your Majesty?”

“Of course, I’m ready,” Jay says, snapping the book shut, “I’m the Queen of England, when am I not ready?” With as much guaranteed grace as the Queen of England holds, Jay steps out the door and into the public eye.

* * *

 

Charlotte chugs down the rest of her beer, making fun of the poor sods throwing darts behind her, the entire pub is focused on her and it’s exhilarating, “Yes, of course, get on with it. But really what's the point?”

“It’s a race you idiot!”

With curiosity, Lottie turns towards the voice, seeing a young man up on the balcony, a challenging look on his face. The entire pub turns to the man, who seems to realise that he just called Lottie, the princess of England, an idiot out loud.

He chuckles nervously, “I mean, it’s a race you idiot, your royal highness?”

Charlotte nods in false seriousness.

“It’s a race? True enough. But some things in life are meant to be savoured,” Charlotte tilts her head towards the empty glass in her hand, “A cold drink for example.”

Then with unwittingly good-natured competition in mind, she throws straight at the dartboard with her own projectile, scoring a bullseye. The crowd cheers and Charlotte spares a sultry glance at the man, she’s not done yet.

Moving on to the second dartboard, “Time with your mates?”

She sends the second dart soaring through the air, hitting the bullseye for the second time, the crowd cheers even louder, goading her on to the max. Charlotte walks to the third and final board, pausing for the drama.

“How about the man in your bed?” Then, without breaking eye contact with the man, she shoots and makes the impressive shot. The pub goes wild this time, Charlotte flips her hair over her shoulder and laughs at the bloke, who looks amused.

Turning around, she takes a giant bow, the man stops looking amused, and his faces go slack. Charlotte sends him a wink and watches the blush settle on the tips of his ears.

Ten minutes later, Lottie gets pushed against a wooden wall.

Lips connected, the warmth pulses through her veins like she’s stepped into an open flame, her arms sling over his broad shoulders and the cool peppermint in his mouth slips easily into her own, “You know, I prefer Cinnamon mints.”

He flips her around, back to chest, pushing the hair from her neck and kissing just below the hairline, Charlotte chokes out, “That feels pretty good.”

He noses against her ear, Charlotte turns back around, pressing her chest to his. The man brushes his lips over hers, “Let me ask you something, could we go somewhere without them?” He motions at the guard standing awkwardly, just a couple feet away.

Lottie laughs, “Sorry, uh, what do you have in mind? Paris?”

She’s joking, but as a smile breaks out on the man's face, she decides that if he asked her to, she’s fly him to fucking Sweden, “I was thinking more like your bed.”

“Oh, I like that even better,” Lottie grins, nibbling his bottom lip, teasingly, then going back in for another kiss.

Before the kiss can escalate, he pushes back and starts talking again, a curious tilt to his head, “But- um, could we really go to Paris?”

And it’s quite laughable because she’s _the_ Princess, “Sure, my brother is there right now.”

Charlotte goes back in for a kiss.

* * *

 

The lights are dim, some techno shit is blasting over the speakers, and Louis is sandwiched between two ridiculously attractive men, dancing like his life depends on it. He spots Stan in the crowd, coming over to him.

“Hey!” He exclaims, throwing his arms over Stan's head and squashing him in a death grip, “Bitch, you're coked up ass better curtsy.”

Stan bows, coming back up and starts grinding sloppily on Louis making him laugh out loud, then he looks at the two attractive guys Louis had abandoned, they are standing awkwardly and staring longingly at Louis, “Do we like them?”

“Nope,” Louis open mouth grins, Leading Stan away from the two, knowing that if they even attempt to follow, his security will take care of it.

They walk to the V.I.P section, where Louis gets seated between a woman in lingerie and a man in a tuxedo, immediately tipping back a glass of jack daniels.

_

Charlotte watches as the man pulls off his tee-shirt to reveal abs, which aren’t that surprising but are definitely a bonus (Most men she sleeps with have abs). She pulls him down to the bed and sits on his lap, pulling off her own top.

His arms wrap around her waist, burying his face in her bra she takes him down on the bed, sat in his lap, and lets out breathy moans as he licks the crevice between her breasts.

He flips her over, pressed into the bed, and lets her dig her fingernails in his blonde hair as he begins to go lower.

_

Downing his third shot of tequila and hanging off of the woman beside him, Louis steals her joint, toking out a long gust of smoke into the already polluted air. He gives back the blunt.

Louis might be a brat, but not a thief.

He feels the club tremble and starts to strip out of his jacket.

Somehow he ends up sitting on the tuxedo guys lap, grinding sexily to the beat. An unlit spliff dangling from his chapped lips, he throws his head back on the guy's shoulder as feels the heartbeat pressed against his back quicken.

He plucks out the blunt and stands up, just as he feels the tuxedos guys trousers twitch, walking back over to the girl in lingerie for a lighter, “A light if you could?”

She smirks, “For a snog?”

Louis pretends to consider, already tilting his head towards hers, “Seems like a fair trade.”

_

The room they’re in is so big, so big that every moan and grunt feels like it echoes off the walls. The currents are drawn, red and thick like vinyl. It’s all very fancy, considering they are in Hartcliffe.

Lottie feels the silk sheets rub up against her back as each thrust sends her further up the bed. The headboard thumps in their frantic throbbing pattern, matching the beat of her heart.

She uses the flutter in his rhythm to flip them over, bouncing on her thighs, creating a new tempo. He groans as she leans forward, making a new angle, sucking on his nipples.

She continues to pull off, then at the moment he almost slips out, drops and grinds and she’s so full. Letting out a loud grunt, he opens his eyes, “This is probably the best sex I’ve ever had.”

It barely audible, so with her most seductive smile, Lottie looks up at him, wetting her pointer finger with her tongue and reached behind her, “You want to make it even better? Remember, if you last longer than me you get a reward.”

The man arches off the bed, He reached up and pulled Charlotte deeper into the void of physical pleasure and trembling thighs.

_

Louis watches as the cocaine is cut into a line on the table, he leans forward dipping the tip of his index finger into the uncut cocaine and rubs some on his gums, before taking the £10 note and rolling it up.

The tuxedo guy had accepted a couple euros before handing over his stash and Louis inwardly thanked his secretary for converting his money to France's currency.

Before he can start, Stan shouts in his ear, “I’m not going to waste another paycheck on blow.”

Louis rolls his eyes, leaning down and snorting two lines in a row before looking back at Stan. “Don’t worry, mate, I’ll pay. Now, hurry up and do this coke before you start feeling left out. I know you took some earlier tonight. You must be over the rush already.”

Stan pulls out a pill from his pocket, “I’ll stick to E, you go ahead and snort as much crack as you want.”

Louis shrugs.

His alcohol sloshed mind decides it’s a good idea to jump up onto the table and strip his undershirt.

He starts to dance, unbuttoning his pants and shaking his hips provocatively. His head starts to pound as he slips hands over his chest and raises them in the air

He watches as a couple people get hypnotised by his coy aura.

And that's before he slips on the leftover cocaine sitting on the table causing his pants to shift down, letting his “stiffy” peek out the top of his briefs in an unflattering way. He hears the flashed before he sees them.

* * *

 

Mark looks at the tabloid, upper lip curled in disdain, he reads it out, “Flash-dance? Prince peek-a-boo?”

Before he can read the article, he hears the helicopter outside and turns to the window, watching it land. The rising sun is peeking over the horizon.

He see’s the door slide open, Louis curled around a bottle of alcohol, his jacket being the only thing covering his naked top half.

Mark sighs at the fiasco, hearing a subordinate walk into the room, “Your majesty?”

He looks at the staff member and receives a pitying look in return. The adviser looks as if he’d just sucked on a lemon, “My God, Jeffery, what else did he do? I can’t imagine it can get any worse.”

“It’s not your son, sir,” Jeffery says, thick grief on his face, “It’s your daughter, and I’m afraid it is worse.”

_

Charlotte wakes up, her face pressed against her companions bulge. She sits up and rubs the crust out of her eyes, the room smells like dirty sex. With a quirk of her lips, Charlotte rolls her head around in an attempt to pop her neck.

She reaches down to get her bra off the floor, fasting it just in time to see her bodyguard step into the room, “Princess Charlotte?”  

“Liam? I swear to God, you scared the Hell out of me,” She said, not even bothering to cover up.

Her bodyguard keeps his rigid stance, “You need to return to the palace, your Highness.”

A pit of concern forms in her stomach, “Why? What’s going on?”

Liam looks at the body in her bed, turns on his heels and calls out, “You too, Niall.”

Niall lifts himself, and looks at Charlotte, looking slightly guilty and more awake then he should be for someone who just woke up. She’s pretty surprised that his name is Niall, though, looked more like a Brad.

_

Jay sits at her desk, looking over the tabloids with the same expression her husband held only a couple hours earlier. She looks up to see her half naked son stumble into the study, looking more depressed than usual.

“Mum-” he started in a shaky voice.

“Louis Orgy, Flash Dance, Royal Willy,” Jay holds up the last tabloid, the Sun, an unflattering picture on the front in a grainy quality and has a big censored bar over where Louis can assume his prick is.

He swallows down the vomit as she continues on her rampage, “My son, the opposite of a prestigious Prince, acting like a common whore. Go on, amuse me, explain this latest disgrace, but please, Louis, make it original this time.”

Tears spill over Louis eyes, “Félicité dead, Mum.”

Jay’s face goes slack.

_

Charlotte runs through the throne room, down the hall, and into his mother's office; Eyes landing on her father looking out the window, Louis and his Mum holding each other in the middle.

Louis would never forget the look on Charlotte’s face, the bewildered girl who just lost her sister. In the same moment, she would become the future Queen of England.

* * *

Niall walks through the palace into the head of the security's study, he hears Bobby talking on the phone as he slinks in, “The body is where?”

He waves at Niall, and continues speaking, “And she won't be moved, right? The military protocol is in our favour, things must stay anonymous and unremarkable, Fiona will handle the press. I’ll come for the body. Yeah, I’m on my way.”

As soon as he hangs up, Niall asks, “How’d it happen?”

Bobby pockets his cell, “We’re still gathering information.”

“Is that the truth from my father, or the official response from the head of the Kings security?” Niall responds.

“The truth from your father, the same father who went to your room last night to find your bed empty, which can’t be said for the Princess’s bed. The fact I had to learn from one of my own men,” Bobby said in a stern voice, pulling on his cardigan.  

Niall’s ears turned pink, “I know, don’t take it out on Liam, okay? He didn’t know.”

“When the queen asks the head of security why he can’t handle his own son, what would you like me to say?” Bobby slides his gun into his holster.

Shaking his head, “I don’t know. You can tell her that you’re normally somewhat responsibly son got drunk on gin and tonics, mostly gin, and had irresponsibly, but completely protected sex with her daughter-” Bobby turns away in aggravation, “-and is very ashamed of himself.”

Bobby punches the bell on his wall, startling Niall out of his babbling, he stalks angrily at him, stopping a short distance away.

“I’m an employ, Niall. We live here on an unspoken code of distant and division. A code you must have conveniently forgotten, otherwise, you wouldn’t have been up all night drinking mostly gin, and having illicit sex with the princess of England.”

“You’re absolutely right, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry about Félicité,” Niall sighs.

Bobby starts walking to the door, back tense, the anger pulsing off him, “I’m disappointed in you, go to class.”

He makes it out the door before Bobby pokes his head back in and says, “Oh, but I’m glad you are using protection.”

Niall feels the heat on his face again, “Dad, could you never say that again please?”

_

Louis stops his cell from buzzing, sitting in the most uncomfortable chair in his life, lighting up a joint. The ash falls off just as the door to his room opens, Charlotte walks in and Louis lets the smoke out, his lungs burning.

Charlotte closes the door as Louis speaks, “I owed her a call. Last night, I promised I’d call her. And-”

His phone buzzes again, Louis grabs it and slings it onto the floor, leaning back in his chair, “They’re going to come now. All of them.”

Charlotte chuckles wetly, “Why don’t you do Mum a favour and keep your willy in your trousers.”

Louis’ voice cracks, “Mum can piss off.”

“Well, do Dad the favour then,” She speaks before Louis can resort, a comfortable silence holds for a minute, “It’s good to see you, Lou, Félicité loved you the most.”

As Charlotte begins to leave, Louis builds up the words, “Hey, this sucks, huh?”

Looking to the covered window, Charlotte blinks the tears from her eyes, Louis stands from the chair, tosses the spliff onto the floor and wraps his arms around Charlotte’s shaking body, it lasted for a good couple seconds.

They both groan as they hear the dogs barking out the window.

“Oh no, “Louis groans.

_

Charlotte and Louis stand on the steps of the palace, their twin cousins talking in loud posh accents pulling their little dogs out from their car, “Oh my God! I’m never flying commercial again!”

“I know, it's ridic.”

“It’s re- _cock_.”

The two snort as they giggle, almost tripping over their feet, making Louis pretend to shoot himself, Lottie laughs loudly. Phoebe looks at Louis, “Speaking of cock, saw yours on the front page, well on you."

Louis fake smiles.

“Don’t worry, how many people even read the tabs anyway? Like three million? Heh. I mean, that’s less than seen your bits anyway,” Daisy says, Phoebe hits her over the head. They both curtsy.

They are all smiles until they are a couple feet away, Louis watches on as they go from complete ignorance to sudden sadness, they accept the uncomfortable hugs, “So sorry about Fizzy. Like, no fair.”

Then like a flipping switch, “So, is our father about?”

_

Charlotte sits in the garden, boiling water getting poured into her china, the bees buzz pleasantly around her. She hears footsteps come up behind her before anything else, then all the bees fly away.

Niall walks up, “Liam said you wanted to see me?”

Turning quickly, Charlotte nods then pets the bench where she’s currently sitting, reaching out for a second cup, “Please- Um, Please sit. How do you like your tea?”

Niall sits down, “I like it when it’s called coffee and I usually have it with soy?”

Lottie sets down the cups and looks at Niall with fake puzzlement, “I know those are words, but I have no clue what they mean.”

He laughs, looking at her with the same look of amusement as the night before. Niall looks at her ruby red lips, her platinum hair that's pulled back in a bun, and the coral sheath dress she’s wearing. Then they both look down.

“Last year when My Mom died, people really didn't know what to say or do, but it was always nice when they tried,” Niall said, “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about Félicité. She seemed like a wonderful person.”

Charlotte stares into Niall's eyes, “She was.”

The silence is defining, until Lottie realises that the bees have come back, “Things are going to be a bit mad around here now so, I just wanted to say about last night, it was, um-”

“It’s fine,” Niall interrupts.

Charlotte shakes her head in disbelief, “I didn’t know who you were. When Liam recognised you, I realised it was you-”

“It’s okay,” Niall interrupts, again, “I didn’t know who you were either.”

They both smile, Lottie staring down at her water filled tea cup, “That’s not even funny.”

Niall laughs lowly, “I haven’t been back that long and even though we live in the same palace, it doesn’t mean we live in the same world. Besides, my Dad would prefer to keep things quiet.”

“Was he upset when he found out?” Charlotte places her tea bag in her water.

“A little,” Niall quips, “But I knew what I was doing. Does the queen know?”

Charlotte takes her first sip, glancing towards the palace in the distance, she thinks about her Mum and replies as honestly as ever, “The queen knows everything.”

Niall shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, stunned to silence.

_

Jay walks over towards the coffin, her makeup smudged from the heat, a British flag laid honourably over the outside of it. Standing in front of her dead daughter's body, Jay sees the lilies and gets irrationally mad.

Her daughter loved roses; they were red, she loved anything red, so the fact that lilies were used made Jay angry and she knew that it was unjustified, tears almost spilt down her face. Mark came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

For those short moments, Jay allowed herself to completely unwind and cry.

A footman came bustling into the room, startling the pair away from each other, embarrassed the help ran from the room.

Jay marched away, wiping the tears and fixing her makeup, “Jay, don’t go. When a mother loses her first born daughter, I believe she’s allowed to grieve.”

“Not when she’s the queen,” Jay says to Mark, shakily, walking out of the room.

_

Charlotte looks out the palace window, watching the crowd shift and raise their flags in honour for their country's fallen sweetheart. Standing in front of Félicité’ casket, a reporter talks on about how the entire nation is in mourning.

“-she loved the people with all her heart,” She heard them say, and it was like a burden had been unwelcomely placed on Charlotte's shoulders. While her sister, the perfect monarch, loved her people, Lottie wasn't raised with that same empathy.

She was raised to always bow to Félicité, never get involved with politics, to just stand around and be the good little backup plan. Nobody ever expected that she would actually become the heir to the throne.

She was the plan B that no one expected to be put to use.

“Oh, how I loathe those people,” Uncle Simon slithered up beside the window, startling her from the daze she’d been in, “Draped in their football jerseys and fake sentiment.”

Without a single glance, Charlotte leaves.

Louis takes her spot.

Uncle Simon continues talking, almost like he didn’t register that he’s talking to a totally different royal child, “One can practically smell them from here.”

Leaning against the pane of glass, Louis nods in false interest, “I would have thought you’d be happy, dear uncle, I mean you’re one step closer to the throne. All you have to do is wait for your brother to die.”

He looks over at Simon with a smirk, then adds, “Then kill Charlotte. Oh! And kill me too, of course.”

Simon just grins in hilarity, “The drugs will kill you, and if not, syphilis will drive you mad and if not they’ll declare you unfit to rule. Either way, win-win.”

And Louis can’t let him have a victory, he can’t let his uncle have the last word, so he forces out a chuckle and a sarcastic reply, “Speaking of syphilis, you probably should’ve had that whore of an ex-wife of yours checked.”

Then he points towards the twins, “Before those two were born,” his two cousins talking about how their fannies were stinking up the room, and it felt like a personal victory that Louis allowed himself to have.

Niall navigates through the grand room, seeing the Prince at the window, he decided that the Princess couldn’t have been that far off, so before he could be spotted he weaves his way through the crowd.

He almost slips out of the room when hears that familiar voice chime behind him, “Hey? You trying to get away from me?”

He spun around to face the Princess, trying to control his grimace, “ _I’m sorry-_ I didn’t, uh. I was trying to be respectful.”

Charlotte looks down, a vulnerability in her posture, her lips tremble, “They wrote a speech for me, to give to the press-” then in a mocking tone says, “She was more than a woman, or a princess, we lost a beacon.”

The queen glances over at them, but Charlotte's on a roll, “The kind in which a nation relies on amalgamation and to create unity!”

With raised eyebrows, Niall secretly wonders what that even means.

“My sister dies and they script my feelings.”

Charlotte’s hair is pulled back into the french plait, her lips painted a scarlet red, and her eyes have dark circles under them. She has stress written all over her face, tension in her shoulders.

Niall sympathetically smiles, “Well, no matter what, I know she’ll be proud of you today.”

Charlotte looks down, and Niall takes it as his cue to leave, but then, “Hey, let's have dinner sometime?”

Looking around the room in surprise- _no_ , shocking unbelief, “Are you asking me out before your sister's funeral?”

“First unscripted moment of the day,” She replies with a shy grin.

Basking in awkwardness, he bursts out, “I like it. You should go off script more often.”

Then he quiets down, and softly replies, “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” And it’s so bloody sincere.

So Niall takes his leave, feeling Charlotte’s eyes on him as he leaves. It feels like fire curling in his stomach.

The queen walks up to Charlotte with mild disappointment, a lingering look of exhaustion on her face, “Really? Poor Gemma.”

“Poor Gemma broke up with me, Mum.”

Jay rolls her eyes, “Well, can you blame her? Might I remind you that the entire world will be watching you today? You’ll give your quote, acknowledge the crowd, and you’ll escort me to the car.”

The queen leans in and stage whispers, “And try not to sleep with anyone on the way.”

Charlotte shakes her head, watching Jay pull back and plaster on an achieved smile. It’s not long before they are all lined up outside the door; Mark, Jay, Louis, then Charlotte. It’s time for her to speak, so she leaves her spot and trudges to the reporter from earlier.

Before she makes it to the “X” marks the spot, she catches a glimpse of Niall, thinks about how her entire life has been scripted, wrote for her, and that’s the beginning of the end

The reporter's posh accent is annoying, “Princess Charlotte, with heavy hearts we offer our condolences to you as a grieving nation.”

She points the microphone at Charlotte, and here's when she recites her mediocre lines, posing as the perfect little sister. She’s supposed to say what was handed to her and smile while doing it, accept the burden on her shoulders as the next in line.

It doesn’t really go like that, though.

“One of the great things about my sister was, she wasn’t afraid to be her own self. I miss her,” Then she thinks of Niall's beaming face and gives the camera a private smile.

Lottie steps into the car a few moments later, joining Louis and her Mother, her father still outside giving handshakes and socialising with the public.

She enters to see her Mum glaring at her and Louis drinking the scotch straight from the bottle.

Jay is, of course, scandalised, “My God, you reached brats. Your sister, my first born, dies and you can’t find the sophistication to honour her memory. What is wrong with you?”

“Was that script too?” Louis slurs.

The queen scoffs, “We script you because we can’t trust either of you to come up with a reasonably coherent thought.”

“God forbid we appear incoherent when our sister dies,” Louis spits with a laugh, “Or have any emotion. You should try it Queenie.”

Jay’s face is red as a tomato, “You are a little bastard.”

Louis rolls his head back on the seat, mouth slightly ajar from the insult.

“I’m inconsolable,” The queen says like it’s a condition or an umbrella that just excuses everything.

“Really? Because our Dad is out there genuinely grieving, while you’re in here worried about the families image, and topping off on the botox,” Charlotte fires.

Leaning across the seat, Jay slaps her with her with intent, “At least I’m not slumming it with the help. And he’s so plain.”

Louis immediately reaches over to help Charlotte, places a hand on her shoulder, glaring daggers into the queen's direction. Running a hand over the nap of her neck to calm her down, Louis swallows the bile rising in his throat.

“Richard the third had it right, lock the kids in the tower, and be done with them,” Jay says before applying a coat of lipgloss.

“Maybe Henry the eighth had it right, he just killed his wife's,” Charlotte looks right at Jay, eyeing her seemingly perfect body,“One of them because she looked fat.”

Jay sniffs with sarcasm, “They always take the good ones.”

Louis is petting her head, Charlotte stills feels the sting of her Mother’s hand on her cheek and her brothers petting slightly calms her down.

Charlotte breaks, “How did Félicité die? All they’ll tell us is that it was a Military accident.”

Jay huffs, then answers in a motherly tone, “That’s all you need to know.”

“Whatever it was, good for her,” Louis breaths, “If you ask me, Félicité was the lucky one, getting out of this Hell hole.”

Shaking her head, Charlotte looks out the window at Mark, picking up children and shaking hands. There are intense flashes, but her Dad only seems to focus on this one little girl who is holding a microphone trying to ask him a question.

It’s quite endearing.

_

Later that night, the entire royal family are having dinner; Jay, Mark, Louis, Charlotte, Simon, and the twins.

Charlotte speaks to her father, ignoring the others, “I was thinking of taking time off school, check up on Félicité charities?”

“I would have thought your studies would have been a welcome distraction,” Jay interrupts, killing the plan like stomping a cockroach. Before she can resort, Louis speaks.

“Speaking of welcome distractions.”

Niall walks into the room; blue tuxedo dyed quaffed hair and a chipper smile. The queen sets down her wine, and openly scowls at Niall, sitting next to Charlotte.

“I asked a guest to join us,” she explained, “Mum, Dad, this is Niall.”

Mark looked interested, “Niall Horan. Artist in residence.”

Niall looked sheepishly down at the bowl of soup, “For his Majesty's silver jubilee, I presented him with a very serious work of art.”

Louis slips an ISD tab onto his tongue before swallowing it down with champagne, it’s not long before the joys of taking acid in a public place begin to settle in.

“I can recall you were working in the paste and yarn medium at the time,” Mark encourages.

He laughs, embarrassed, “I retired shortly thereafter.”

Mark nods understandingly, “What's your focus now?”

“Art history, at church hill.”

Charlotte adds- _no_ , praises, “Niall is even doing an honours degree. Art history and dance.”

But before it gets to be too much bonding, Jay says, “Which is grand news indeed. As the Prime Minister himself recently expressed a concern about the shortage of frolicking art historians. I’m sure you’ll be “twerking” your way to a great future.”

Niall almost felt his face melt.

“Well, he is dining with the future Queen of England, so he’s got that going for him,” Louis states, he can barely feel his out mouth move, thanks, acid.

Jay frowns and Simon watches a maid leans over the table to refill a glass of wine, her skirt lifts to reveal sheer thigh-highs, he licks his lips.

“It’s good that you’re here, Niall. You can give us the common point of view. How is the public fairing in the wake of Félicité death?” Simon pitches in, earning glares from Charlotte and Mark in the process.

“I think we’ll go,” Charlotte began to stand, Niall was anything but common.

But Niall prevailed, “Félicité carried herself with a nobility and grace that was easy to admire. She was inspiring and she was ours. But I can only speak from my _lowly_ commoners perspective.”

Simon doesn’t seem ruffled in the slightest, “You say she was yours, but you’re Irish?”

“My Mum was Irish, but I was born here and then raised in Ireland because it was-”

Mark cut him off, “Because it was safer. Please stay.”

Niall nodded in gratitude, and Mark spoke again, “I appreciate your kind words about Félicité, Niall. I really do. Félicité joined the military because I had like every first born had. Félicité was killed by tradition.”

Simon rolled his eyes, “Félicité died a hero's death. A noble death.”

“Which merely means she’s dead, and why?” Mark addresses Simon like it’s a strenuous task.

Jay pushes out of her seat, “I seem to have lost my appetite.”

“I think you'll want to stay to hear this next part, my love.” Mark tells her, “ I think you all will. So, put away your phones, your drugs, and pay attention. I’m considering asking parliament for a referendum. “

 _Dramatic pause,_ Louis thinks.

“To abolish the monarchy."

The entire table share nauseating glances, the distress was so thick you could cut it with a knife. One of the twins, Phoebe, gives a little giggle, “Um, what does that mean, exactly?”

“ _Oh, um,_ that means that you’ll have to get a job,” Louis divulged, sarcasm dripping off every word.

Simon looked towards the twins and sighed in displeasure, maybe even embarrassment, “A vote, idiots of my loin, to eradicate us, to erase us.”

“Uh, yeah but, um- Who votes?” Daisy asks, bewildered.

“The people,” Simon glanced over at Mark.

Daisy nodded, “Yeah, I get that, but they can’t do that because they’re like, _the_ _people_. And we’re like, _us._ ”

“They can, and they have. Ever heard of America?” Simon asked voice laced in mild disgust.

The twins gag, “Uh, but I do not want to be American. I do not want to walk around like, Justin Beiber with no shirt on and my trousers hanging off.”

“He’s Canadian,” Louis groans, totally over this whole conversation.

“That’s even worse,” Daisy cried, “They can’t make us Canadian, can they Daddy? Canadian and poor, or just like Justin Beiber?”

Simon shakes his head, “The British monarchy always has been, and always will be.”

“Always will be _killed_ Félicité,” Mark gritted out.

Silence, Charlotte looked down at her untouched soup and Louis’ head felt like someone was doing a river-dance on it.

“The people need a monarchy,” Simon enunciates.

Mark shakes his head, “The people need bread, and jobs, and a decent wage. They don’t need us.”

“With all due respect, my king, how would you know?” Simon asked.

Louis watches his Father’s face drop and the entire table, including Charlotte’s newest chew toy, look to him for reassurance, almost like dogs begging for their precious Monarchy to stay.

_

Niall walks into his father's office, Bobby calling him out immediately, “I understand you had dinner with the Princess.”

“She invited me, I said yes.”

Bobby glanced up from his paperwork, “Next time say no.”

“Did you ever think that maybe I said yes for you? That saying no might make it awkward between you and the King?”

“Did you?” Bobby says, unconvinced.

“No,” Niall slides, “I said yes because I wanted to go. Speaking of places we’ve gone lately, have you visited Mom's grave?”

Bobby sighs, “I’ve been working. The Kings welfare is never ending.”

“Yeah,” Niall walks towards his bedroom.

Throwing down his pencil, Bobby roared, “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“You know what? Fine, I will. Two things actually, I appreciate that you worry about me and I get it, being close to the royal family is what got Mom killed and that’s where you go when I’m near them,” Niall practically shouts, “But it’s not the same thing, Dad.”

“It is the same thing, and frankly, it’s not fair to me,” Bobby retaliates.

“Because you worry about me when I’m near them.”

“It’s dangerous, Niall, even for a moment,” Bobby leans forward, face full of anger and grief.

Niall whispers, “Do you know how many steps it takes to get from the elevator to the chair you’re sitting in? Seven. Do you know how many to your bedroom? Twenty-three. I lay awake at night and wait to count those steps because then I know your home and safe.”

“You worry about a moment. I worry about all the other moments,” he tags on, trying to walk out of the office.

Bobby stops him, calmed down, “Hey? You said there were two things?”

Huffing, Niall keeps his back turned, “She always put us first, now you don’t visit her grave and haven’t taken a single day off since she died. That’s screwed up, Dad. Mum deserves better.”

Then he finally leaves the room.

_

 

Louis sit’s on his bed, creating a beautiful piece of condom art, making the union flag. Someone knocks on his door, and he yells a quick, come in. Phoebe and Daisy peek their heads through the door, “Well, look who it is, slag one and slag two. Get in here you draft bitches.”

The twins poor out the content of their bag onto Louis bed, including multiple pills, a dildo, and a bunch of weed.

“I’ll take this and this,” Louis says, picking up the bags of weed, a lighter, and handing Daisy the pack of birth control pills, “I’ll leave this with you. God forbid either of you breed.”

“Yeah, Phoebe doesn’t actually get high. She says it makes her queasy,” Daisy informs, watching Louis flick the bag of cannabis in suspicion, “She’s also a virgin.”

Louis glances at the two and raised an eyebrow.

Phoebe gasps at Daisy’s betrayal, “Just a vaggy virgin, not a blowie or a handy.”

“Now I’m queasy. Please don’t tell me you’re offering. Gross,” Louis fake gags, then turns to face his idiotic cousins, “We’re getting high tonight. Just not here.”

Ten minutes later, all three of them are sitting in the throne room hitting a water bong, Louis tilts the lighter over the bowl as Daisy inhales the smoke sceptically, pulling off and letting out a coughing fit.

Louis cackles as Daisy almost pukes, “Yes! Maybe you’ll be better at shagging, although I doubt it.”

Phoebe takes the next hit.

“I can’t believe Félicité gone,” Louis startles as Phoebe talks about his sister, “She would have been a stellar Queen, yeah?”

“There's not going to be another Queen,” Daisy says, forlorn, “Can you imagine it, Louis? Not being a Prince? We’re just not qualified to do anything else.”

“I think I could do all kind of things, like serve tea at the ritz,” Phoebe says, “I’d be like, _Oh you’d like another pot of tea ladies? Maybe some cake or biscuits_?”

“Food,” Louis blurts, “I’m fucking starving.”

Standing up from his chair, he leaves the throne room, Daisy garbled out, “I can’t feel my legs. I need assistance. Louis? Help!”

When he gets to the kitchen, Louis immediately grabs the first pie out of the refrigerator, it happened to be custard pie with whipped cream. Louis places it on the island and starts eating it with a ladle.

It’s the first utensil he came across, so sue him.

Mark stumbles in a couple minutes later, Louis eyes him, “Is that the King of England sculking about?”

Putting his hands up, Mark gives Louis a “ _you caught me_ ” face.

“Fancy some pie? I think this was reserved for the Prime Minister. But, that fat bastard doesn’t need any more pie,” Louis babbles, “I could always sell pastries, y’know. If you decide to disband the monarchy. Which I’m all for, by the way.”

Mark pulls out a plate from a cabinet and cuts himself a slice, “Something tells me that your opinion is in the minority.”

Louis helps cut the piece, making it zig-zag just for the pleasure, “When has that mattered? You trust your instincts and you follow your heart. That’s what makes you great. A great king, and a kinda okay father.”

Mark smiles warmly, eating his zig-zag pie, “How are you, Lou?”

“Um, I’m sad,” Louis says, then leans towards Mark like he’s about to share a secret, then whisper-yells, “But I’m baked out of my mind, so right now I’m well.”

Eating a bite of pie, Mark nods, “They worry about you, Louis; your Mother and Charlotte.”

Louis grins, “Not you.”

“Not so much,” Mark agrees.

Laughing, Louis pretends to be upset about this, “Thanks a lot.”

Mark put down the plate that had his zig-zag pie, he says in a fatherly voice, “Go to bed. Do better tomorrow. I’m the King, so you have to do as I say.”

Before he can leave the room, Louis calls out, “Dad? Do I disappoint you?”

Mark stops in the door, then looks at Louis fondly.

 “Those qualities you say make me great, I see them in you every day. Don’t medicate away all that wonder. Your sister loved you with all her heart, so do I,” Mark said.

By the time Mark finished his little pep talk, Louis' face was blotched in red and tears streamed down his face. A shy smile blossomed across his face, “Yeah. Thanks, Daddy.”

Marks nodded, then walked swiftly to his bedroom, seeing Jay sat up on the bed with a scowl on her face. Her eyes were closed, but Mark could tell she was wide awake, so he sat down on his edge and waited for the reaming.

“Let me recap my week for you,” He hears her mutter, teeth beared.

“My son’s penis was on no less than four tabloids, my first born child was killed, my husband announced he wanted to abolish the only life I’ve ever know, and our butler almost saw my snatch,” Jay said, eyes still closed.

Marks lets out an unsteady gush of air.

“I miss her. With every breath. And what tears me is that she could have been anything in the world. I’ll not lose another son or daughter to this.”

Jay finally opened her eyes, “They are my children too. They’re no worse than any other kids their age.”

“Your son was rolling balls in the state dining room, and now he’s stoned and eating the Prime Minister's pie,” Mark accuses, he turns to Jay and continues, “I’m not sure this will heal any of us. But staying the same will destroy us.”

Leaning towards Mark with a glint in her eye, “The English crown has been protected and defended for thousands of years. From clans with sticks to world wars. Legions of lives lost-”

“Well, not this one. Not our daughter.”

“You are the King of England, Goddammit, act like it.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do,” Mark leaves the bedroom.

_

“Kay, so, we’ll be off now,” Daisy says, climbing into the car after Phoebe, trying to forget Jay standing in front of them, passed out in the throne room, on the king and queens chairs.

“Yeah, I guess our Fathers not-” Before Phoebe can finish, their dog barks.

They both bow their heads, the dog still barking, “Shut up, dog. If we were in Asia, we’d be able to eat you with mushy peas.”

Louis spares charlotte an exasperated glance.

Daisy shuts the door behind her, window rolled down, Phoebe shouts, “Don’t slam the bloody door!”

“Stop shouting,” Daisy replies.

“I’ll shout if I bloody want to,” Phoebe shouts, again.

Daisy snarks, “Your breath smells like a fart.”

Louis and Charlotte walk back inside, both in stitches by how ridiculous their cousins were.

_

Niall, wearing a cream jumper, walks into his home, seeing Bobby waiting at the door, he’s immediately on high alert, “Hey, you okay?”

Bobby gestures towards the living room, the queen standing primly in the middle of it.

Niall spares Bobby a betrayed glance, then he follows Jay out of the room and onto the terrace.

“You’re probably wondering why I wanted to see you.”

“Something to do with Charlotte?” Niall guesses.

“You mean, her royal highness princess Charlotte,” Jay advises, watching Niall shift awkwardly.

“Right, sorry.”

“My daughter likes you,” Jay says, watching the way Niall’s lips turn up at the revelation, “But, I’d be very happy if you discourage the relationship.”

Niall smiled again, looking down at the ground, “It’s not really a relationship.”

Jay laughs, “Obviously, it’s not. Is your Father still a workaholic?”

Nodding, Niall tries not to be discouraged, “He loves his job.”

“Some people feel he’s getting a little old for his line of work, but of course, I’d never allow for him to be replaced, considering the favour you’d be doing for me,” Jay hints, Niall completely stunned and angry.

“May I speak freely?”

Jay’s eyes sparkle, “Of course.”

“Okay, well the thing is, I wasn’t even planning on seeing your daughter again,” Niall says, then, “But I changed my mind when you insisted on this heart to heart and threatened my father.”

The queen's jaw twitched, “Maybe don’t speak quite so freely.”

Turning to the garden, “You’re the Queen of England, I get it. But your daughter is your problem, not mine.”

No one speaks for a minute.

“Be careful, little boy,” Jay says, nodding her head like she decided something, “As you said, I am the Queen of England and this is my house. Perhaps if you still had a mother you’d have better manners.”

Niall stiffly spun around to face Jay’s smug face, he shook his head in disbelief, “I’m not afraid of you.”

Jay grinned, teeth bared, “Afraid of me? Of course, you’re not. Why would you be? Now, bow to your Queen and walk away.”

“I would,” Niall starts to walk away, “But my mother never taught me how.”

 _

Charlotte sat in the pub, drinking with her bodyguard Liam. She took a giant sip of the pint, then starts to speak, “You know what really sucks, Liam? Other than my sister dying, of course. It’s that you never drink with me.”

Liam shrugs, “I’m working, ma’am.”

“And stop calling me ma’am, you’ve been my security for what?" 

“Six years,” Liam tells her.

“Six years,” Charlotte repeats, pushing her drink to Liam, “Have a drink you pussy.”

Liam pushes it back, “On easy lies the head that wears the crown, ma’am. That’s Shakespeare.”

“Yeah, I know it’s Shakespeare you Irish prick,” Charlotte scolds.

“Carefull, “ Liam calls, “You’re boyfriend is Irish and your name is Irish, as well. So look at it this way, maybe you’re illegitimate and in that case you can’t be Queen anyway.”

Charlotte laughs, looked at Liam with amazement, “Did you just say-”

“That your Mother, the Queen of England, got on by an Irishman? Yes, that’s what I implied, you potentially Irish bitch,” Liam grinned at Charlotte's surprised and grateful face.

He knew she loved it when he acted like a friend, not an employee.

Charlotte looked down at the bar, moment forgotten, “Tell me about Niall, Liam.”

Liam looked over at her, “Niall, ma’am?”

“Yes, Niall. You recognised him in my dorm,” Charlotte pressed.

He nodded, “Right, well, Niall is Bobby’s son. And Bobby’s my boss. So, uh, confidently-”

Lottie, leaned in closer, listening.

Liam sighed, then said, “Niall… is my boss's son, ma’am.”

Charlotte groans, leaning back against her bar stool, sipping the beer in her hand. “Liam, do they give you respect lessons before you become the King’s security?”

“They do indeed, ma’am,” Liam says.

“Well, you suck at it,” She watches Liam’s lips twitch into a small smile, “You think Louis’ security detail is like this?”

Taking a long swallow of her pint, Charlotte watches the last of her drink empty into her mouth, Liam watches her, “Well, Louis’ security detail has been fired, ma’am.”

She places the glass onto the bar, the bartender immediately placing down a fresh pint, before she can grab it, Liam takes a sip. He bloody winks at her. Charlotte looks on in wild amusement, “Enjoying that?”

_

Louis walks down the cellars corridor, picking up bottles of wine, and practically throwing them down. Her new bodyguard trails after her, stuck to her heels, “Oh! Perhaps I could call the keeper of the cellars, your Majesty?”

“Okay, it’s deputy Yoman of the Royal cellars, and I’m your Highness,” Louis says, walking faster down the hallway, “If you’re going to work here, you better learn the language.”

Harry nods quickly, keeping up with Louis pace perfectly, his long legs battling Louis short ones, “Oh, apologies, your Highness.”

Louis catches a stumble in his voice, He smirks, “Are you nervous?”

“Uh, yes. Very much so, yes.”

It’s kind of cute, Louis can’t lie, so he decides to tease the bloke,“Why? Because I’m the Prince, or because I’m fit?”

“Well, no, because you’re the Prince-” Louis sends him an _are you serious_ glare, Harry's eyes widen, “Because, because you’re fit, is what I meant to say. Um, both.”

Louis turns the corner, “That’s inappropriate, calling me fit, like that.”

His bodyguard runs after him, “Apologies, your Highness!”

They finally make it into the wine cellar, Louis laughs, at his security details dispense. He looks at all the wine and practically dry heaves on spot.

“I’m so messing with you,” Louis reassures him, then presses his chest to Harry’s and pretends to straighten his tie, “Although, I do have serious concerns about your ability to guard my body, Harold.”

He pulls himself off, watching Harry rework his crooked tie, then picks up a crate of wine, “Lucky for you I look after myself. Now here, hold out your arms.”

Harry takes the heaviest box of alcohol without complaints, but a serious look of alarm on his face,  “Okay, you look concerned. There are twenty-five thousand bottles of wine down here, Harold. I’m the Prince, my house, my _wine_. ‘Kay?”

Louis watches Harry’s throat bob, “Oh no, no, of course, yes.”

“But if the deputy Yoman see’s you, you’re an alcoholic burglar, got it?” Louis says, as seriously as possible, he picks up a random bottle out of Harry’s shaking hands.

“Ooohhh, This is a nineteen-forty two something or other, after I drink this, I’m going to need you to find a really good spot to hide the evidence,” Louis teased.

Harry’s eyebrows scrunch up, taking it all literally, “Sorry, you just said-”

Louis cuts him off, “Okay, you can go. But tomorrow night we're going out, so could you lighten up?”

He nods quickly, “Uh, Yeah, I mean, yes, your Majesty. Highness, sorry, I meant Highness. Right.”

Louis turns away to inspect some more of the choices, he smiles to himself as he hears Harry bump around the room talking quietly to himself. It’s quite adorable, and Louis has a time listening to his awkward shuffle out of the room.

A couple hours later, Louis tiptoes across the balconies ledge, bottle in his hand, in only a ratty band tee-shirt and baggy black boxers. He catches a glimpse of Niall walking through the window and calls out, “Nialler! Stay and drink with me?”

Niall walks out of the french doors, and Louis hops down, sitting on the ledge, “You look like you could use one.”

“Yeah,” He looks at Louis in shock, “I could definitely use one, your Highness.”

Scoffing, “It’s Louis and nineteen-forty two it is,” Louis fills his glass and hands it over, hugging the bottle to his chest, tightly, “Some for you, and more for me.”

Niall smiles, so Louis adds, “To Fizzy and the fading days of a crumbling empire.”

They clink their drinks, and take swigs. Niall’s smile has faded, and It almost feels like an accomplishment, with how much the boy smiles, “So, how are things with the new girlfriend?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Niall shakes his head, “I tried to explain that to your Mother.”

“And did she threaten you and tell you to never see her again?” Louis guessed.

“Pretty much.” Niall reveals, “It was just a hookup, I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend.”

Louis jumps down from the ledge, and grabs a joint from behind a bush on the terrace, “So much for dating a girl for her money and power; Art, planes, boats, land, couple of castles, the crown jewels, and diplomatic immunity. But, the kid is terrible looking, so I can see why none of that matters.”

Niall smiles again.

He pulls the reefer up to his lips, lighting it, inhaling the smoke and filling his lungs the rest of the way with clean air from a deep breath. Then, after holding it in for a steady ten seconds, he exhales.

“I’m sorry about Félicité.”

Louis watches smoke rise from the blunt, he sucks in his cheeks and looks up at the sky, “Yeah. I’m sorry about your Mum.”

“You knew my Mother?” Niall asked.

“From a distance,” Louis says, “She was elegant, your Mum. And your poor Father, he was so tortured.”

As Louis pick back up the bottle of forty two, Niall sighs, “I guess so.”

Louis takes a sip, “I know so.”

He clears his throat, “Y’know, when I quit university last year, I use to kick about and try to go unrecognised, and mostly I’d end up in this park. Stealing things from homeless people.”

Niall laughed at the confession.

Louis continues, “Anyway, I would see your Dad there and he would sit on this bench, it was always the same bench, and he would just weep. Y’know, like he was gutted inside.”

Niall didn’t laugh this time, instead he looked pained, “Are you sure that was my father?”

Taking a long hit of his joint, Louis blew out the smoke, “He had this book.”

“All Creatures Great and Small?”

Louis nodded.

“That’s how he met my mom, she was reading that book in the park. They had a chat about it,” Niall tells him, Louis started up again.

“So anyway, this went on for weeks, and eventually my Mother summoned him and told him enough is enough,” Louis’ voice wavered.

“Do you know what he did, your dad? He looked her right in the eyes, his boss, the Queen of England, and he said, _Suck me, you’ll deal with it. My wife deserves a lifetime of tears and not even the Queen can tell me when to stop_. Your Dad is a badass and everyone knows it.”

Niall looked guilt ridden, eyes glued to the moon, tears building in his eyes, “Everyone except me. I’ve got to go.”

Louis watches as Niall practically runs inside, he stops last minute, “Hey. Thank you. You’re badass, too.”

Turning back, Louis waits until Niall’s footsteps are gone, “No. I’m just a bastard with money and Power.”

He shrugs to himself, “But I do make it look good.”

Then, a mouthful of Wine.

Niall walks into his Dad’s office, seeing him still working at his desk.

“You were out late,” He says, missing the way Niall practically flings himself at Bobby. He looks surprised as Niall's arms wrap around his waist and envelop him in a hug. “Hey? What’s all this about?”

Niall lays his head on Bobby’s shoulder, “I just wanted to say that I love you, because I do.”

Bobby presses a kiss to the top of Niall's head.

“Goodnight, Dad,” Niall says, leaning back and walking to his room. Bobby hold a thoughtful expression on his face as he watches Niall leave. He privately smiles.

_

Bobby steps out of the elevator, last night's events replaying in his mind. He walks over to the couch where Niall is sitting, doing course work. He crosses his arms, and waits for Niall to look up.

“What?” Niall doesn’t even spare him a glance, just continues writing.

“Are you going to tell me why the Queen was standing in my living room yesterday, or am I meant to pretend it never happened?” He asked.

“She just wanted to hang out, we’re kind of besties, me and the Queen,” Niall kids, “Truthfully, she wanted to tell me not to see Charlotte. She also threatened you, took a cheap shot at Mom, and was pretty much a complete bitch.”

“And before you say anything,” Niall continues, “I just wanted to say sorry, again. I down a few gin and tonics and all Hell breaks loose.”

Bobby stays quiet, then, “Do you want to see Charlotte?”

“Dad, there is no _seeing_ , okay? We hangout and no, I wasn’t planning on doing it again,” Niall tried to explain.

“Good,” Bobby indulges, “Because I agree with the Queen, and think it’s for the best.”

Niall sways on the couch, “But if you change your mind, don’t for a second worry about me, or my job, or what the Queen wants, or any of it, okay?”

Snapping his eyes up, Niall looks at Bobby suspiciously, “Really?”

“She may rule a nation, but that icey bitch has no rule over my son's heart. Besides, they’ve taken enough from us already.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Niall breaks.

The doorbell rings and Bobby goes to check the monitor.

“Well, you might not want to _“hangout”_ with her, but she wants to _“hangout”_ with you. Next Queen of England on her way up,” Bobby says, alerting him that Charlotte was almost to their home. He quickly throws his book down on the coffee table.

Pulling his phone from his back pocket, he lays across the couch in what seems to be a casual manner, he doesn’t catch his Father’s judgeful eyes. “Morning, ma’am.”

“Morning, Bobby,” Charlotte greeted, then her eyes flit over to Niall. “Hi.”

Niall pretends to just have noticed her arrival, “Oh. Hey. What’s up?”

He sees Bobby roll his eyes in the background.

“Sorry to come unannounced,” Charlotte apologises, sitting in front of Niall on the chair opposite the couch.

Niall smirked, “That’s what she said.”

“Wow, um,” Charlotte glances at Niall weirdly, “So, Louis tells me that you and my Mum are hanging out now?”

“Yeah, we go to the mall together, swap outfits, talk boys,” Niall says sarcastically, “Oh! And threaten each other.”

Charlotte looks down, sheepishly, “I should have warned you. It’s kind of a tradition. I meet someone, she threatens them, it get’s pass for love in our family.”

“It’s fine,” Niall shrugs, “I mean nice of you to stop by, but totally unnecessary.”

Charlotte lets out a breath, “Good. But that’s not why I stopped by.”

Confused, Niall quirks his eyebrow.

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime? What’s the sludge that you drink? Iced, Soy, Dirty laundry?”

Niall chuckles, “Iced Dirty Blonde, with Soy.”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant,” Charlotte says, shaking her head, then muttering, “Not what I meant at all.”

“It’s delicious, you should try it.”

“Oh, I plan to,” Charlotte bargains, “With you, if you say yes.”

“I don’t know,” Niall looks down.

Charlotte catches his eyes, “It’s just coffee, Niall.”

“If that’s your story,” He teases, then agrees, “Fine. Coffee. You and me. Me and the future Queen of England _having ol’ Coffee._ ”

“Dear God, was that you attempting a British accent at the end?” Charlotte pretends to gag, “That's awkward, but I’m still in. Uh, I’ll text you.”

Niall laughs, “Okay.”

“I’ve, uh, got to go,” She says, then stands and starts to leave.

“Hey!” Niall calls out, “Thanks for stopping by.”

“I wanted to,” Charlotte replies, “And it had nothing to do with the Queen.”

As soon as she leave the room, Niall collapses against the couch, sighing to himself, “This is going to suck."

* * *

 Louis sits on the concrete, in front of the palace’s gate, with all the memorial flowers and candles. Harry, his bodyguard, was leaning against the security van a couple feet away. There are hundreds of lilies and the scent is fogging his mind.

It smells like funeral home.

“Hey, Fizzy,” He croaks, not paying any attention to Harry’s shifting, “I miss you and I’m going to miss you. But I’ll be fine, you know me. Look out for Charlotte, though, I think she’s going to need it.”

Louis wipes the tears from his eyes, standing up, and making his way over to the car. Harry opens the door for him, and Louis takes a chug of his leftover wine. The moon casts a shadow across Harry’s sharp profile.

“Where to, your Highness?”

He leans up against Harry’s pecks, “Ever been to Paris, Harold?"

Then he crawls into the van, catching Harry’s stunned face before he takes another sip of his wine.

The club is very similar to the one he was at the other night, dimmed lights and the same beat of that shit they play in all nightclubs. His eyes adjust quickly to the flashing neon lights, and otherwise darkness.

He trails through the sweaty pulsating mob of dancing people, Harry following right behind him like a shadow. He sees Stan in the middle, some hang-tooth was grinding on him, probably drunk out of his gourd.

Louis makes his way to Stan, wrapping his arms around his neck, “Hey. You made it!”

“Yeah, with goldilocks too,” Louis gestured towards Harry, who was a couple feet away, pretending not to listen in. Stan laughs, grabbing Louis hand and pulling him to the V.I.P. section, Harry struggling to catch up.

* * *

 “It’s a beautiful City,” Charlotte breaths, Mark nods beside her, they gaze out to the London Eye and soak in the flickering streetlights and grungy buildings, “Dad, are you considering abolishing the Monarchy because of me?”

Her voice is hysteric, and face painted in hurt, “Because you don’t believe in me?”

“No,” Mark states, “I’m considering it because I do believe in you. Because I want something more for you.”

Charlotte shrugs, “What could be more than Queen?”

“Love,” Mark points to the city, “A family raised beyond the confined walls of a castle. A life lived, and not destined. And saying this, I like Niall very much.”

“Me too,” Charlotte grins, looking back over the night time London horizon.

“His Mother was killed because of me,” Mark sighs, “Because men always choose the wrong things. They stalk power, and wealth, and frivolous things they think will make them whole. And it never does. It never does.”

“But his Father chose duty and honor, and service to the King. Those aren’t frivolous things.”

“No,” Mark agrees, then, “If you asked him if he would do it all over again. what road do you think he’d travel? Bobby chose duty, over love. Fizzy chose honor, over her own path. I want you to choose love. Choose your own path. Those are the roads to travel, Lotts.”

Tilting her head in surprise, Charlotte finally smiled a little and let out a soft, “Okay.”

* * *

 Louis twitches the camel between his fingers, watching some half-naked girl crawl out of the left side of his bed. She’s blonde, so he must’ve been really fucked up last night, considering he usually goes for brunettes.

Speaking of brunettes, Harry is on his right side, snoring softly, completely naked.

“Hey,” Louis hits him on his broad shirtless back, “Go home. You are welcome, by the way.”

Louis glances up from his phone, and sucks on his cigarette, watching Harry hug a pillow sleepily. His biceps flex as he curls them around the velvet cushion.

“Get out,” Louis snaps, then laughs,“ I apologise in advance, Harry, for getting you sacked. But let’s be honest, I mean, you we’re a dead man walking.”

“Uh, probably so,” Harry mutters, pulling on his trousers and belt, sitting back down on the corner of Louis bed, grabbing his shirt. Louis sheets sag around his hip bones and he catches Harry look at the sliver of hair.

“What, um, do you remember from last night, anyway?” Harry sounds hopeful.

Louis throws his cigarette into the ash tin on his nightstand, he pretends to think, “Um, nothing, Harold. You were perfectly forgettable.”

Harry pauses, then starts to button up his shirt, painfully slow, “It’s just that, I remember everything.”

Louis snorts unattractively, “Yeah, well, like I said, you’re very welcome.”

“See, I remember being at the club,” Harry stops, then continues, “And I remember the drugs I put in your drink. And I remember every sordid depraved self-loathing thing you did after that. And when I forget-”

Harry stands up, pulling out his phone and spinning it in his hands, “I can always just watch the video.”

Louis lets out a strangled pant.

“So, I think I’ll keep this job,” Harry smirked, pulling his jacket out from under the sheets, all the covers tumble off Louis naked body, making him curl up onto himself, shivering, “I really like the benefits.”

-

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a summary of this one-shot: 
> 
> Twins Prince Louis and Princess Charlotte enjoy the hedonistic pleasures available to them as royals, knowing that their older Sister Félicité bears the responsibility of being heir to the throne of England. 
> 
> But when Félicité is killed, the family is thrown into disarray and a grieving King Mark fears for the future of the monarchy. Unexpectedly next in line for the throne, Lottie must adjust to her new role while navigating her attraction to Niall, the Irish son of the royal head of security. Her self-destructive brother Louis finds rock-bottom when his bodyguard turns out to be a conman.


End file.
